Who Are You
by Cailin
Summary: What if Sammy didn't leave for school
1. Chapter 1

Summary: What would happen if Sam didn't leave for school

Disclaimer: Yeah I don't own them.

Author's Note: Ok, so I don't have Internet at school...Do you know how awful that is? It's the most boring thing in the world, and then the TV channels that I watch don't have any sound. This is my own personal hell! The good side of this, since there is actually nothing to do in my room, maybe I'll actually finish one of my stories these days. Nah, no I won't, I'll just start more. What was I thinking? If anyone is ever in the big city, feel free to come put me out of my misery. Please. I NEED THE INTERNET.

**Who Are You**

By Cailin

"If you walk out that door, don't you ever walk back in." John said with an eerily calm voice.

He turned back around to the book he had been consulting before the battle had begun.

Sam's mouth dropped opened. Had his father really just said that? In all the scenarios he'd run though his head, this one had never arisen. Don't come back? Was he really saying that?

"You're, you're joking..."

"You heard me! If you leave, you're done! You're gone for good! You don't get to come and go as you please!" John yelled, his finger in Sam's face, his calm collective gone.

"Dad-" Sam and Johns head quickly turned toward the doorway, where Dean had finally decided to join the conversation.

"Stay out of it Dean." John ordered in an angry voice.

"But Dad," tried again "Go to your room!" John exploded "It's bad enough that I have one son who doesn't give a damn

about what I tell him, I won't have another!" Dean stood in the doorway for a moment trying to make eye contact with his baby brother, but Sam turned his head away, looking toward the kitchen. "NOW!" His father bellowed. He turned quickly on his heels, and they listened as his footsteps were cut off with a loud slam of the bedroom door. John sat back down in his armchair his elbows against his knees and his face in his hands. Sam saw rather then heard the sigh that ran threw Johns body. "Where did I go wrong with you?" He quietly asked himself.

Sam looked away from his father, not thinking he would be able to hold his tears at bay. Most parents would have been thrilled about their son getting a full ride to an Ivy League school. But his father had never been like most parents, and he never would be.

His eyes stopped roaming on the picture frame resting on the bookcase. Nestled between rows of text on banshees and skin walkers, smiling back at him, a cruel reminder of how things could of been. A glimpse of a life he had no knowledge of.

Standing beneath the shade of a giant oak, stood the man that Sam had heard stories of but couldn't remember, no mater how hard he tried. The man had his arm around his wife who was holding one of his sons. His other boy was nestled in the crook of his arm and he was leaning down and placing a kiss a top of a young Sam's baldhead. His father.

They may have had the same appearance, but they were to different men. Sam's eyes traveled back and forth between the haggard run down version and the light, young, care free one. Finally the question he had been asking himself for years slipped out into the strained silence.

"Who are you?" Sam's tight voice asked as he stared at his father. John's angry eyes shot up to his son face, as he stood again. The resounding punch could be heard through the whole house and the soft click of a door opening at the other end of the hallway made the two men step back from each other. His father had spanked him once, when he was very little and had almost run in front of an on coming car, but he had never physically hurt Sam or Dean because he was angry. Sam just kept his eyes locked ahead as he backed away toward the doorway. "Who are you?" Sam asked again.

"Samual I'm so-" John started but stopped as Sam fled the living room.

Once John heard the bedroom door lock he made his way to Dean's room and pushed the slightly ajar door open. Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand folded between his legs, his head hung. He stood to attention when his father entered. His eyes weary.

"I'm leaving on a hunt. I'll be back later. There's money for food in the drawer..." John paused looking over his shoulder to the closed door, then back at Dean. "If he needs a ride to the bus station, take him."

"You didn't mean it, right?" Dean dared to ask.

"Damn straight I did. If he wants to leave then we don't need him." John said making his way toward the front door. Dean quietly followed behind him, "Yes we do." Dean said softly.

"Not anymore we don't." He answered picking up his bag that was already packed and waiting for him by the door. "I'll be back." And with that he was gone.

Dean stood at the front door trying to figure out if he should give his brother a few moments to cool down before he tried to talk to him, or if should not give chance to make any decisions. He opted for the latter.

"Sammy?" Dean asked knocking lightly on the door. He waited a moment, listening for Sam to make his way to the door. When he didn't hear anything he tried again. "Come on, Sammy." He said pounding a little harder. "Don't make me bust the door open." He threatened, knowing that he would never do it, not wanting to be the one who was on his father's bad side. "Sammy, just come out and talk to me...At least let me know your alive in there. Sammy, please..." With a sigh Dean turned and made his way into the kitchen

Dean had tried again later that night, trying to coax his brother out with food, but still didn't receive any reply, so leaving his door open, he went to bed. When his alarm went of the next morning Dean rolled out of bed with a groan. Going threw his morning routine as quickly as possible, Dean padded barefoot down the hallway to stand in front of Sam's. He rapped his knuckles lightly on the door,

"How you doing in there?" This time instead of the usually silence that Sam had been giving him, he heard a loud crash of something being thrown against the door.

"Sammy."

"I can't do this Dean." Sam's broken voice met him.

"Do what?"

"I hate it here!!" Sam screamed, another object crashed against the door.

"Sammy, let me in. Please?" Dean pleaded. He was the big brother, he was suppose the be able to fix this.

"NO!" There was an explosion of noise behind the door, and Dean could just imagine the things taking place on the other side.

"I feel helpless out here. Please." Dean leaned against the wall and slid down to sit, with his back against the door.

"I- I try so god damn- hard." Sam's cried, his hand placed on the chair that he had jammed under the door knob, he wanted to let his brother in but the truth was, he knew that if his brother was there with him he would lose it. What little composure he was able to maintain would be gone. "I just- I just want him- to be proud of me. I just want-" Sam couldn't finish his sentence and buried his face in his hands, holding his breath.

"He is proud of you Sammy. He just-"

"No!" Sammy interrupted. "He's not, he's not proud. He said he wasn't." Sam answered, sitting down against the door, unknowingly a mirror image of his brother. "I don't know what to do Dean. I don't know what to do!" His voice was almost hysterical as he began to rock back and forth, Dean could hear the soft creek of the old floorboards and the soft thump of this back against the wall.

"I'm proud of you Sammy. I always have been." Dean said softly.

"Dean?"

"What?" Dean asked turning his ear toward the door.

"I'm proud of you too." Dean let out a throaty laugh. Leave it to his brother, to try and make him feel better, when he was the one being ripped apart. Dean leaned his head back against the wall, waiting silently.

"When you're ready, I'll still be here."

"'Kay," was the only reply he got.

At around four, Dean made his way from the kitchen to Sam's room. There had been sparse conversation between the two of them, with Sam keeping his door firmly closed.

"Are you ready yet?" Dean asked. "The bus leaves in an hour, and it's going to take about 45 minutes to get the station," he explained.

"I'm not going."

"Sammy, don't listen to-"

"I'm not going."

"He's just mad right n-"

"I"M NOT GOING!"

"Why not?"

"It cost to much."

"Bull shit!" Dean yelled a little irritated with his brothers' behavior. "You got a full ride. You said it covered everything."

"Not everything is about money." Sam said softly. And for the rest of the day the room was silent.


	2. Chapter 2

Holy moly! This story got more hits in one day then any of my stories did. I am however a little depressed about the number of people who reviewed it, so thanks to those three who actually did. This update is for them.

So same as the first chapter, I don't own them, but I do enjoy playing with them

**Who Are You**

Chapter 2

"When did he leave?" Dean was startled when he spun around from the sink, to see his Dad with his overnight back over his shoulder.

"Dad?"

"When did he leave?" John asked again.

"He didn't." John stood there in doubt for a moment a confused look on his face.

"What?"

"He's still here. He hasn't come out since you left. I can't get the door open. I think he has a chair against it." Dean answered, drying his hands off with an old dish towel.  
"Has he said anything?" John asked, leaning against the doorway.

"We've talked…But he says he's not hungry when I ask him if he wants something to eat. I asked him if he needed a ride but he said he wasn't going."

John nodded his head and walked into the living room, Dean following him.

"You're not going to do anything?!"  
"Give him time son."  
"But Dad-"

"No Dean. I said give him time. If he wants to pout in his room, then let him. He can't stay in there forever."

"I have stood by and let you do some stupid things concerning Sammy, but I swear to God, if something--- If I lose my brother, I'm holding you responsible." Dean threatened. And with that Dean stormed out leaving his father awe struck on the couch.

By the time that the sun was setting, John had had enough.

"He still in there?" He asked loudly as he stomped his way up the stairs.

"Yes sir." Dean answered, directly behind him. John paused outside of the old beaten up door.

"Sam, let me in." John ordered, waited for any movement from inside. "God damn it Sam, let me in, or I'll bust the fuckin' door in. Do you hear me!" He yelled pounding on the door.

"Dad..."  
"No, Dean! Damn it Sammy, stop acting like a selfish baby and open the fuckin' door!" As soon as the word were said they heard a soft scuffle across the floor, and the sound of the chair being removed was music to Deans ears as his father pushed the door open.

Sam's back was toward them as he walked back to his desk, replacing the chair. The room was a mess, in a very Dean like manner. Clothes were thrown on the floor and a pile was left near an half filled duffle bag and every book that Sam owned was thrown into the corner.

"What's going on Sammy?" Dean asked looking around.

"Nothing." He answered as he kept his back to them and knelt down on the floor to begin folding this clothes back up and placing them into the open dresser drawers. Their father stood there for a moment, looking like he was going to say something. But with a sigh he looked down at his feet.

"Dinner will be ready in 10 minutes." He said as he walked out. Dean continued to stand there trying with all his might to think of something to comfort his brother. Taking a few steps forward he placed his hand on his brothers shoulder.

"Sammy..." Dean started. His brothers hand quickly shot up, stopping whatever comment he had come up with.

"Don't." Dean removed his hand and stood behind him for a moment. He looked around the room and then finally back at Sam.  
"Do you need anything?"  
"Could you get me a garbage bag?" Sam asked him. Dean just nodded his head, then realizing that Sam didn't see him, answered,

"Sure. I'll be right back." When he returned Sam was seated in front of the window, picking up small pieces of glass that Dean guessed were from the picture frame only a few inches away from his side. Dean cleared his throat to let his brother know that he was back. "You need help?" he asked hopefully. Sam shrugged his shoulders. "What do you want to throw away?" He tried again. Sam pointed to the books and he got up to move to the closet. "But dude, these are like every book you own." Sam didn't answer as he began to hang up shirts. "I can't throw these away." Dean admitted  
"Well then leave the bag and get the fuck out." Sam snarled

"Sammy..."  
"Either you do it or I will. Don't be a girl about it." Dean continued to stare at the back of Sam's head before he turned and began to carefully place the books inside. Once they were all within Dean stood up.

"I'll go put them in the attic."

"Just throw them away."  
"But-" Dean protested.

"Just throw them away." Dean stood there for a moment.

"Things will get better." he tried

"No they won't." Sam slammed the closet door shut and moved to the unmade bed. Dean let go of the bag of books and took hold of his baby brothers shoulders, spinning him around to meet his eye. Dean shook his head as he brushed Sam's long bangs out of his face to reveal the purple, swollen eye beneath. "I don't care anymore." Sam said softly

"Sammy, "

"I don't." He admitted. "He's won. He got what he wanted. What he has always wanted."  
"Don't say that." Sam looked down pushing Deans hand off the side of his head

"I don't care anymore." A broken Sam whispered.

And Dean knew that Sam really didn't.

Dinner had been a silent one. No one asked for seconds and no one looked up from their plates. Once the table was clear and the dishes washed John ordered Sam to stay at the table. Sam and Dean looked at each other, trying to figure out what there father was up too. He left the room quickly and came back with his over night bag.

"I know you don't believe me, but I'm proud of you, that you were able to get into Stanford, that's just great. And if things were different... " John gazed away, lost in thought. "But they aren't" his voice broke as he tried to explain himself "and...and...God! I love you Sammy. I love you and your brother so much. And I know will all my heart that your mother is proud of you too." John made his way back over with a small package and handed it to him. "I know it's not much, and money's kind of tight right now but here." Sam took the package and carefully took the raping off, setting it aside. Held lovingly in his hands was a leather bound copy of "A tale of Two Cities." One of the first books that Sam had ever read on his own. He had stolen if from a library in New York while his father was doing research. He had been so proud of himself when he had finished it on his own, that he had run threw the house telling his father and Dean. His dad had smiled at him and then asked him where he had gotten the book from. His dad had made him return the book the next morning. He carefully leafed thru the old pages and stopped when he saw the note written on the inside cover,

_To Sammy,_

_You'll never know the love and pride I have for you. _

_Dad_

Sam nodded his head and looked up at his dad. John could see a pool of tear collecting at the corner of Sammy's eyes.

"Thanks." He said before be got up and left the room. John looked lost as his son walked away. But his expression quickly changed to pain as he watched Sam dropped the book into the waste basket on his way out. Dean looked at his Dad, thinking about the words that Sam had uttered while they cleaned Sam's room.

"You got what you always wanted Dad." Dean said softly as he made his way out of the kitchen to the front door of the small house there were living in. He turned the door knob and looked back at the dark haired man. "Sam's head is finally out of the books and into the real world... and it didn't cost **you** a thing."

The front door closed and John was left alone with his thoughts. His eyes stopped on the old photo of his once happy and whole family. He smiled slightly as his eye found Mary, taking in every curve of her angelic face. And then he frowned when they traveled over to his image. He stared at it for a long moment before he looked up to his reflection in the window. His brow creased and he looked on with confusion at the old man staring back at him. The old and weather beat man he had never expected to see in front of him. "Who are you?"


End file.
